The written equivalent of launching a nuclear missle into my house...

Ok, so maybe it wasn't such a good idea. Do I regret it? Not right now. Is mom upset as all hell? Probably yelling a lot?

Bet the life savings on it.

Is the fallout gonna hang around for a while? Is Mark going to think that snow came early? Am I gonna get some sort of monetary penalty for this? Like paying for my stupid GRE?

Yes, YES, and probably. Shit.

Ladies and gentlemen, my mother: the reigning queen of speculation, worry, and negativity when it comes to questions of my maturity, work ethic, organizational skills and intelligence. If I'm wrong, she has yet to consistently prove it. But I just want to say, for one second, that email to her was a work of absolute sarcastic purity. And there weren't even any curses in it. Yeah, you read that right.

Ok, back up. So, she calls me today first. With the kind of tone that you fear more than any other. The kind that signals that someone in the family is either dead or dying. Only, that someone just happened to have four legs and garner more pure joyful attention than me and all my brothers combined...yes, one of my mom's beloved cats died.

Frankly, I'm still surprised she outlived them...for the amount of times that she ran across that highway to get one of those damn furballs, I really thought the odds were not in her favor against those cattle semis climbing over that hill at 60 mph. But did my logic matter? Fuck no. I'll refrain from ranting on THAT tangent.

Anyways, the call regressed to statements, no longer of any honest worry or admittance of total ignorance of the situation on her part. About my GRE, grad school options, and deadlines, she had apparently acquired complete omniscience, and was more than ready to pass judgement on how out of gear my ass was, and that I should step on the clutch and put the damn thing back into gear (paraphrased) and that I should just sit and take one more public bashing of my ability to do things in the face of so much stress that I could scream, that I actually did the second I hung up the phone.

So, here's to the angry messages, phone calls, yelling matches, and total breakdowns of communication that we all have frequently enough to drive us nuts. Maybe I should just get a big red button that says "NUKES" on it instead, and slam it down every time I get into these situations.


(slam)(slam)(slam)(slam)(slam)(slam)(slam)(slam)(slam)(slam)(slam)(slam)(slam)(slam)